


Meldacio AU: Captured

by synnovx



Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied Relationships, Original Character Death(s), Post-Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV, Psychological Torture, Torture, Tumblr Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synnovx/pseuds/synnovx
Summary: Seifer is returning from a Hunter HQ sanctioned reconnaissance mission near the Insomnian border when he is stopped by the Empire. (This is a thread excerpt of an ongoing RP thread for Meldacio AU on Tumblr.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of back and forth threads written at the introduction of Loqi coming into our AU. The reason for posting this here is so those who wish to read the thread can do so without having to hunt through tags and threads on Tumblr. If you're not involved in the AU itself or a roleplayer on Tumblr, this will likely be very confusing. 
> 
> For Seifer's presence in FFXV: Regardless of the verse, Seifer is of noble birth. In fact, his father Artos was the former Emperor of Niflheim until Aldercapt usurped him and stole the throne from the Almasy family. (Info here: https://misplacedheroics.tumblr.com/verse ) 
> 
> In terms of canon timeline, this RP Excerpt takes place before the fight in Formouth with Loqi. 
> 
> I'm sure you've read the tags so I don't need to mention them again but just in case, this is Canon Divergent, this 'fic' contains Torture, Blood, Violence, Character Death and a Crossover. 
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Loqi: https://loqis.tumblr.com  
> Seifer: https://misplacedheroics.tumblr.com/

Seifer won’t draw attention to himself. He was getting better at it, standing there with a seemingly non-threatening posture. His profile stays on the Brigadier General as he passes by.

What was he looking for, now? The Prince? Ex-Glaive?

Loqi would normally not pay much attention to the civilists standing nearby when he lead a troop to one of their bases, as he did just now. They always only stared, parents grabbing their children to prevent them from running towards them – intelligent parents and young children at least. Every older Lucian who tried to attack in a rebellious streak was shot to the ground. Either his kneecaps shattered or dead – luck’s draw.

  
And his trained eyes could also tell apart who was a leader, trying to make the Lucians flee, forcing them to become refugees instead of leaving them at their homes. Niflheim wasn’t cruel to the annected cities, they did not murder the population. No, this would only create turmoil. As long as they stayed obedient and calm, nothing was happening. But the slightest slip and guns were drawn… they needed a firm handling. Their King had been too weak anyway.

And as he passed that one blonde man, Loqi hesitated. A flutter of memories crossed his mind. A document, sent by General Glauca while he had been in Insomnia under the guise of the Captain of the Kingsglaive. One of them… he had suspected him to be the ‘lost Prince of Niflheim’ from long ago. He had sent a faint photo along with it. A young Glaive, blonde hair combed up and back, bright greenish eyes. His steps grew slower. Ordering one of his soldiers to lead the troop on, as he himself turned around and just looked at the man.

He knew no shame in this, no caution. Openly observing the features of this one.

  
He was not sure… it had been a little while and the picture had been not the best quality, but the report had caused quite the little peak in attention.

  
Getting closer, Loqi nodded towards the man.

  
“Whom do we have here? You look like one of those youngsters that would like to cause trouble with Niflheim… yet you are so silent. Judging your stature you would also make a very good soldier.”  
Maybe he could pry out of him what made him hesitate and doubt at the same time.

  
“Have an explanation why you somehow peak my interest?”

—Hm?

Seifer’s jaw was set tight when he turned back to meet the attention of a very curious General. Youngster eh? Seifer’s eyes narrowed. How much older could this man be? Certainly not far from Seifer’s age but… still, the ex-Glaive does what he can to wilt that posture a bit more like the others standing near. Lucky that he thought about his hair ahead of time. Typically pushed back, it took everything in him not to run his hand through his golden hair. He had to remain calm, focused. Just get through the gate and get them safe.

Unfortunately, Seifer couldn’t do much about the women with their small children looking to him for direction. Nor to the elderly who might forget that he used a cover name when speaking to the Empire’s finest.

A slow draw of breath and Seifer’s dominant hand moves to the blade behind his back. It’s only a precaution. The gesture is so subtle, one would hardly notice–

“No explanin’ anythin’ really. Jus’ tryin’ ta get ta Longwythe. Gonna go see my mama.” Those nights around the campfires listening to Dave tell his stories certainly pulled off. Seifer gestured to his chest, limbs loose and dangling. Lanky and awkward was his stature now, once he got in the rhythm of pretending to be someone he wasn’t. “Prolly woulda loved bein’ a soldier tho. Too bad I got a nasty lung infection. Ain’t been right since. Reckon I’d be no use to anyone if I can’t run fer very long.”

One might hardly notice his hand wandering to that blade – but Loqi did notice. He was in his early twenties and Brigade General, he would not have gotten this rank, had he ever been inattentive of his surroundings.

But it was his subconscious doing that, leaving Loqi not paying too much attention to the movement.

He rather focused on the face of the young man. These features certainly seemed familiar – this accent and posture weren’t at all. They screamed for him to be of lower standing. A simple farmer’s boy. But the General would not leave that guy alone. He still stood there, observing him for another few silent, nearly painful moments.

Then, Loqi swayed his head to the side.

“I am sure your ‘mama’ would be proud of her boy if he was a soldier. You know, we also have ways for men who can use their brain and skills without running for too long. A lung infection shouldn’t stand in your way to something you claim to ‘love’.”

A hand was laid on the other blonde’s arm.

“Come, I want to see you run. More so, I will even run alongside you, then I can see when your pitiful infection starts to show its signs. Don’t you think I would be the best judge to determine whether you are fit or not?”

Seifer can’t fight instinct.

When that hand grips his arm his eyes immediately drop down to it. He’s calculating. He’s fast about it because he too was good at his job at an exceptionally young age. Bright. Gifted. A very proficient and well-disciplined killer.

They bred them well in Niflheim, or so his instructors would praise – when praise was so rarely given, but it was always attributed to his origins. Looking at this General now, perhaps they were onto something…  
Those eyes are seeking weak points in the armor. Seifer has found two so far. One inside the inner elbow where no metal plating exists. The most obvious of openings are at the neck, of course. That open chest plate was of faulty design.

Flash over practicality. And given the young man’s choice of cologne and the way his hair was so delicately styled – Gods, this was almost too easy.

These are all observations made within the course of a few seconds, of course. Seifer’s quick to catch himself but that focused stare would be all too easy even for a civilian to point out. His senses were sharp now, and he grips that blade tighter until there’s talk of a run.

His brow relaxes, he’s back to being the stupid farm boy. Even if he did execute this General, the Niffs would turn and open fire on everyone there – not just Seifer. He glances over, watching a few of the soldiers following the exchange, weapons at the ready.

“Well… see, I would but…” Seifer releases his grip on the blade, slipping his hands into his front pockets, trying to seem casual. But there’s nothing casual about the racing pulse, the way his breaths have changed or the way his eyes remain fixed, unblinking. Steady. “See– we jus’ wanna be on our way. Heh– gotta get there by nightfall, right?”

Loqi’s eyebrows knitted together upon being faced with this. His senses were whispering, sharply warning him. This boy was more than what he wanted to seem like. What exactly was yet to be determined.  
What was certain was that the general wouldn’t let the other get away that easily.

“Well, you need to learn, that is for sure… ‘I would but’ isn’t something I would like to hear from my men for example.”

The smirk tugged a little further on the corner of his mouth. His hand grabbing the other’s arm tighter, now suddenly nearly pushing him away from the other civilians. A nudge, like as if they were old friends. And in that brief moment the other was in front of him, Loqi grabbed the hilt of his blade, drawing it from its sheath. He got close to the blonde, the blonde looking so eerily similar to a certain Prince.

His next words were spoken a little more silent, the blade of his own sword slightly piercing the apparent farmer boy’s back.

“I told you to run, so you better run for me, that pretty smile won’t bring you to your beloved mama any faster. I want to see you run, prove to me you are soldier material or suffocate from your infection. Either way I want to see it myself.”

That blade is sharp. It causes Seifer to flinch, his fists to tighten until his knuckles were bone-white. He’s able to feel that tip pushing through the fabric of his cotton jacket, reminding him that he had it treated and sharpened just that morning.

That is his blade. His. The one of Lucian design. A standard-issued weapon handed out to every member of the Kingsglaive special forces unit.

And now it was in the hands of a trained Gralean General. Fuck.

Seifer swallows – he’s not going to be able to talk out of this, and he knows it. He listens to the voices, the whispers, and noises of concern and he’s praying – yes, praying, that no one dares utter his real name.  
Fine. If this asshole wants to see Seifer run, he will run. He would make a good show of it, not wanting to give away that gait of a soldier too easily. Awkwardly, he begins, arms loose and lanky, breaking out into a jog as he runs to the edge of the checkpoint all the while thinking of a strategy to get these good people out of there safe.

Feet hit the pavement in a rhythm he has to remind himself to break. Farm boys don’t know how to properly run, most like–

Niffs watch on, their heads moving as they follow the blond all the way to the blockade wall and he touches the door, then begins to head back. He breathes heavily, feigning a pained expression. The smoking in recent days was working out to his benefit, finding he really does need to quit when his lungs require a little more air to keep breathing.

He makes it back to the General, pausing for a few seconds to watch and study his reaction, pray he hasn’t recognized the blade he’s holding just yet before turning back and going another lap.

As he returns, Seifer stops in front of the General to catch his breath. Not that he really needed to, he could do this all day if he wanted– but a hint of his true self does slip past. That drawl vanishing only for a moment–

“Satisfied?”

Loqi’s blue eyes followed the supposed farmer. He ran in a bad posture. Steps faltering and his arms not swinging in sync with his legwork. The general was silent while observing his victim.  
The small blade he was holding, he tipped against his palm lightly, the reflection of the sun making him look down as the man made his second lap.

And in that moment he looked down on the blade, his blood rushed cold for a second before seemingly collecting all heat of the sun above their heads.

He knew that weapon.

He would recognize it anywhere.

It was a standard knife of the Lucian forces – the Kingsglaive to be more specific.

His glance darts back up again, piercing into the back of the blonde’s head. Either this ‘farmer boy’ had gotten this by accident – a possibility Loqi doubted or he was a thief. Or even worse… he truly hid something and made a show of this.

More so.

General Glauca had noted that it had been one of his Kingsglaive who carried so much resemblance with a long lost Prince of Niflheim.

Blowing the air through his nose Loqi tried to collect himself again as he watched the other approach again. This face. The descriptions back then. This unique scar. Could he really be…? It would be a near unbelievable coincidence. Such bad luck for the once-prince…

Loqi waited as the other caught his breath again – not too long. He was still in thoughts, turning the blade between his hands.

“Satisfied.”

He answered with the telling of a small smirk as he turned away, before suddenly moving surprisingly fast. It is just a short movement. Cruel, yet so fast it is almost impossible to escape.

With brute force, but also quite the needed precision he slashed the Kingsglaive’s blade down, drawing it across the face of the other – following exactly that scar that had already decorated his face, redrawing it in splattering bright red.

Loqi quickly took a step back, grabbing the other male by his short hair and jerking his bloody face up to force him to look at him while pulling him in an unfavorable position.

“Quite the beautiful weapon you have there. Didn’t the Kingsglaive teach you that lying was a bad and dangerous thing to do? I guess you did not listen to your dear Captain Drautos…”

 

It takes all but a moment for Seifer to register what had happened. Instinct quickly reacts when he catches that flash of motion – the strike with his very own blade. Seifer jerks his head back from the upward swing that nearly splits his face wide open, dodging the blow. Lucky. So lucky, he was. Blue-green eyes stare back at the General – he’s ready to launch an attack of his own, unsheathing the smaller blade tucked away and still strapped to his belt but he falters.

The sudden cries distress from the civilians sending him into alarm and he can’t help but look over to them. …What? Why was everyone shouting? The General had missed Seifer’s face completely. He felt the wind coming from the swipe, sure, but it certainly didn’t cut him.

At least that’s what Seifer believed – until he begins to feel that little tickle rolling down his cheeks. He blinks, and suddenly Seifer’s seeing red. Literally. Blood is oozing from the fresh wound and trickled into his eyes and clouded his vision.

What…?

That is when the shock set in. Feeling his pulse hammering in his chest, his neck, the blood roaring in his ears. Unsteady hands raise to try to wipe away the blood but there’s so much of it that it’s dropping off the tip of his nose with a steady drip drip drip–

His eyes sting. It’s not just blood pooling in his eyes but now tears. Just like the last time – Seifer’s eyes watered. And just like the first time, Seifer didn’t see this coming. He didn’t understand any of it was really happening until his knees buckle and he was made to heel before the General.

Kingsglaive. Drautos. His head is jerked upward, causing the pain of that fresh wound to let its arrival be made known to him. Bloodied hands to move to tear and claw at that hideous armor, ripping at it as he bares his teeth with a sharp and defiant growl.

Sharp and lethal were the General’s words, cutting right through the shock and trauma as familiar names – familiar words rang all too clearly in Seifer’s mind. A sharp noise of pain lets out. He will not speak. Not a word. Not a single fucking word to this Niff.

Oh, it was an entertaining sight. How this ex-Glaive knelt before him, hands gripping his armor and tainting it with his dirty blood. The defiant growl and a headstrong attitude flickering in those green eyes – parted by bright red blood.

“Ah, I know that expression,” the General remarked, as a few soldiers came to them, to pry the male away from Loqi.

“I love watching when it breaks from your face and you give in. - Put him into chains. I think we have quite the interesting catch here.”

The soldiers were obedient, hands grabbing the blonde and jerking him away, down into the ground, while they searched him for weapons.

Loqi still watched, not minding the bloody fingerprints on his armor for this moment. He was far too fascinated by this one. He could really pass through all the descriptions General Glauca had written down. The Emperor would be more than gleeful to know about it… he just needed to find out the truth.

“I fear your ‘mama’ will have to wait for her lovely boy… if there ever was a ‘mama’, of course. Or was your mother a dirty little lying easy girl? Would suit your behavior. Bet you got that scar from a father who didn’t want you.”

His breathing grew shallow and labored, certainly noticeable to the guards though none of them cared. One pressed a knee into the middle of Seifer’s back as the other held his hand down. Jacket stripped away, arms became twisted in positions that caused him to grit his teeth and sound out the pain. Gods, his face aches. His blood pressure caused the fresh wound to pulse, radiating sharp pangs of heat from his face.  
Even if they had managed to secure his arms, Seifer’s legs still kicked, boots making a coarse scuffing noise as he kicked up dust from the road around them.

From down below this General seemed far more intimidating than his short stature had impressed upon Seifer. With clouded eyes, he watches as a soldier approaches the General, calling him Tummelt, speaking in their native tongue as they ask what they were going to do about the civilians.

And Seifer would understand every word.

He’s hoisted up, dirt clinging to the areas on his cheek where blood had smeared. Seifer was already an utter mess as they began to search him. They find on his person his inventory kit. A map, bottle of water, provisions, all neat and orderly. Tidy, like a soldier’s pack should be.

Seifer’s eyes stay trained on the bag as it’s passed along when he catches movement from the corner of his eye. One of the refugees had pulled a gun out of their pack, pushing to the front of the group as he raised his weapon – aiming it right at this Gralean General known as Tummelt.

He doesn’t think – only reacts on instinct, legs launching Seifer to his feet before he’s brought back down to kneel once again. Seifer’s voice deafened by the imminent gunfire —

“JACOBI, NO–!!

The Brigadier General watched as this man was searched through, only as a soldier approached him about the civilians he teared his glance away from the blonde on the ground.  
The civilians… right.

„We are going to relocate all of them.“

He spoke in Niflheim‘s tongue, like he was used to – mainly also to avoid those civilians from understanding him.

„Group them up in rows and lead them through the gate, they will sleep in the camp fir this night, give them water and the basic rations. Tomorrow I will know where to put them. We will go through them and put some of them into work to secure war productions.“

They weren‘t brainless monsters in Niflheim, they knew how to handle these people more or less humane. A dent in their reputation towards the innocent people of Lucis liek the incident at Lestallum had left was something Loqi knew to avoid. He wouldn‘t follow Ulldor‘s lead.

Cane and whip was the perfect way to go. And those strong or smart enough could be of good use.

Then he turned back to the little liar as the soldier uttered a ‘Yes Sir’ and made his way to follow the orders.

They had found a small kit on him and of course it would go to Loqi – but just as he wanted to take it, shouts rang through the air.

One of the refugees jumped in front, gun raised and Loqi looked directly into the barrel. His soldiers knew what to do, an immediate threat of their General or anyone within their rows – shoot. The man with the gun doesn’t even get to pull the trigger. Thin splatters of blood fly through the air behind him, as he gives a suffocated noise and then falls to the ground like a mannequin.

He was dead.

And the refugees in fear. Shouting and cries welling up, they moved like a mass, simultaneously. Loqi knew how dangerous this situation was. A wrought-up crowd was uncontrollable – the only thing to keep them calm was violence.

Growling, he made two steps towards them, grabbing a gun, working the slide and shooting up in the air, securing their attention on him.

“Stay right where you are! You will all get down! Lay down on the ground, arms and legs spread, I do not want to see anyone disobey! Nothing will happen to you as long as you cooperate! Just stay calm, anyone who tries to attack us any further will share this man’s fate!”

What a nuisance.

The wailing and whimpering still prevailed, but all of them crouched down. Some with fear in their eyes, others with defiance. The children were in tears, adults trying to comfort them as their own distress grew. Quite a large amount stared to the blonde male who had tried to lie to Loqi and was searched now.

“If you carry a child, just kneel down and keep it quiet! If yu carry weapons state this as soon as we approach you and lay them down in front of you! You keep calm and we will do the same…”  
The General ordered his soldiers with a few gestures to also start separating and searching the civilians for more weapons.

Most played along… just two of them did not. They jumped to their feet, another pair of guns flashing in their hands. And just like the man before them – a few loud shots and they scrambled to the ground, screaming in pain, since it was their legs and knees, that had been shot to keep them from running away.

This spiraled out of control worse than Seifer could have imagined. The soldiers holding Seifer would command and he would obey. A shaky nod as he kept his eyes forward and his body still.

Well. As still as anyone could be – given the situation. He’s injured, the shuddering still making his body tremble from the shock and trauma suffered to his own face. Blood still steadily trickled down, soaking the front of his shirt and now a steady spot was growing on his left knee as it remained forward, keeping his balance.

As much as these people had been through and survived, so many of them had been brave over the weeks following fall of Insomnia. But now his group fell silent, watching Seifer with baited breaths and wide eyes pleading for him to have some kind of plan to get them all out alive.

Sadly, he did not. The point was made clear. They were outnumbered, outgunned and in no position to fight back. All Seifer could do was remain as calm as he could, eyes fixed on the red halo blooming out from around Jacobi’s body. He once knew that person. He wasn’t a friend but he did instruct Seifer on how to be a better long-range shot and now he was sprawled on the ground like some discarded doll. He watches as the adults frantically cover their children’s eyes and stifling back their sobs.

Seifer needed to do something before their lives were snuffed out as well. Everything was moving so slowly yet all too quickly. So much was happening that he couldn’t stop it – couldn’t stop the words before they were spoken loud enough for the General to hear –

“De er uskyldige – skader dem ikke. Behage.”

Loqi had been focused on the civilians ducking down and cowering there, as they were started to be searched through – taken under control. They seemed to have regained the power.

With some simple gestures he commanded three of his soldiers to at least stop the bleeding of those who had been shot in the legs with tourniquets – after they had been disarmed.

Only then he heard that sentence.

Spoken in one of Niflheim’s tongues – the language he knew from Gralea.

Loqi turned slowly – the same way a smile formed upon his lips, till he faced the defiant blonde with the bloodied face. His steps had a slight bounce to them as he got back to the side of this young man, coming to a halt directly in front of him.

“Nå, godt … hvad var det? Dit sprog er en temmelig mærkelig en for en Lucian. Spændende…”

The general lowered himself into crouching, looking the other one directly into the eyes. There were more and more hints. Now it nearly was undeniable. Loqi truly was excited. The former Prince of Niflheim had been said to have died some 16 years ago… and now there was this man, kneeling here, talking in this language, fitting all the descriptions of General Glauca. Carefully Loqi used the blade to lift the male’s chin up – paying attention not to cut him any more than necessary. And not to give him the chance to end his own life like a martyr.

“Kom nu, gør det ikke sværere end det er. Stop med at lyve. Hvad hedder du? Hvem er du? Svar ærligt, og de vil ikke blive skadet…”

‘They are innocent. Do not harm them. Please.’

These words seemed simple enough. Simple for any Lucian to practice and know just for such time during the war when the Empire was invading, was winning… surely…

Surely, but likely not. So when that blade lifts Seifer’s chin, he keeps his eyes forward, gazing up at the cloudless sky, listening to the bugs buzzing, the sound of MTs chattering, the hushed cries of the innocent civilians…

And says not a word. Not another goddamn word.

Seifer’s jaw locks tight, teeth clenched as the questions came forward. What is your name? Who are you? Then the threats. Seifer’s throat was wide open, blood trickling past his chin and jaw and leaving red streaks down his neck. The same neck open and exposed to this Tummelt. How easily it had to be for the General to just drag that sharp edge across but he doesn’t.

No, and why would he? Seifer’s unblinking eyes fall from the sky to stare back at the General. Defiant. Predatory in the way they did not blink.

Not. Another. Word.


	2. Chapter 2

 No answer.

Of course.

And Loqi was no one to waste time. He could not. Not with this topic. He needed to know what this all was about.

“Well. I will make you talk. I already had greater men than you falter in front of me – get him up.”

Loqi stood up himself and ordered the three soldiers to drag the other one over to one of the many steel boxes that contained material. They forced him down on his knees again and placed one of his hands on the box. The non-dominant one, Loqi was merciful enough in this.

But he was not merciful as he knelt down across from the blonde and laid his hand on top of the other’s fingers. He too kept them down with this.

His blue eyes pierced green ones.

“Last chance. Tell me what I need to know. You are only making this unnecessarily brutal.”

And with this vague suggestion, Loqi placed the point of the hunter’s knife beneath one of his nails and just ever so gently pushed the hilt down, using the edge of the box as a pivot.

It was an ugly, painful feeling. A little more force and he would simply break off and rip the man’s nail out. It was cruel, but it probably got the job done. And the other would get out of it nearly unscraped – a few months for the nail to _maybe_ grow back.

Torture.

Tummelt was going straight for the torture aspect of this little interrogation. Even as his body is dragged away Seifer keeps his eyes on the General, not breaking his gaze for even a second–

First, his right hand is offered and pressed to the box – then his left. Fingers splayed and held down to keep Seifer from clenching them into a fist – the muscles running along his arm flexed and tight. Gods, it almost feels like his arm is going to break with the amount of pressure they hold his arm and even still, those eyes remain on the General.

Not another word. Seifer draws in a readying breath for whatever was to come, looking right in the eyes of the monster in front of him– fearless.

Even as that blade glinted in the sunlight, hitting his eyes, Seifer says nothing. Even as the tip of his blade begins to push directly under his nail, his jaw remains clenched and shut tight. The pain does register, and quickly – Seifer’s teeth immediately bear themselves with a sharp hiss, his body soon shifting to get away from it.

“Nn–gh!!” No, no, no, no, don’t. Don’t look down – it makes it worse. Glaives were conditioned to withstand worse pain. Hell, just receiving the blessings of the King was a process painful for some.

He’s feeling that pressure. Feeling the skin under his nails starting to separate, causing an agonized groan to erupt out of him. His body jerks but his hand remain firm and unmoved. Eyes finally shut tight. His head drops, but there’s a soldier there to lift it up, a tight grip on his hair as he’s forced to stare at Loqi’s eerily calm expression.

And then it can’t be helped. More hisses, sharp breaths and instantly Seifer becomes reduced to a whole manner of sounds that made him seem less human and more animal. It. Fucking. Hurt.

And still, he said nothing. Instead, someone else spoke for him–

_“STOP THIS! YOU’RE HURTING HIM! SEIFER!”_

_Seifer_ . Seifer was not a _Lucian_ name. Blue-green eyes widen as he breaks his gaze from the General over to the woman whose child was buried in her bosom, hands covering his ears as he hid himself away. He watched as one of the General’s men turned towards her, their weapon was drawn but pointed to the ground. It’s a terse exchange, the woman looking whiter than a sheet before cowering and sobbing into the boy’s black hair. Everyone is watching him. All eyes are on Seifer except hers.

Was it guilt? Was it desperation? Why did she speak his _name_ …?

The soldier quickly turns back, returning to his General–

_“Hun fortæller mig hans navn er Seifer Almasy.”_

Fuck.

Loqi’s expression remains unmoved. No frown, no smile. Nothing. He just watches as he feels skin separating beneath the man’s nail and sees him falter and wince in his pain.

But he had to admire his determination. No word came from him.

Luckily others broke for him.

And then, Loqi gets his answer. He still watches the man – Seifer Almasy. In his mind all the pieces are now held together by facts. And oh, how beautiful this picture seemed.

Slowly he lets the knife down, not ripping Seifer’s nail out for now. He puts the blade away, silent, calm. Then he grips Almasy’s hand and raises it up to his lips – a sign of respect, old and traditional, which was once shown to royalty – as he breaths a kiss against the back of Seifer’s hand.

“Seifer Almasy, what a pleasure.”

Others might find this reaction more than strange, but Seifer would understand it. Loqi knew.

He knew who was in front of him.

Smiling the General got up, leaving his hand, before even placing the tip of his boot on the injured finger. Thus causing a lot more pain than a ripped out fingernail would have done, as he leaned down.

“You have no idea how eager some persons are to get to know you… put him in chains. He is my personal captive. Watch him every second, nothing is to harm him. Oh, and also give water and food to our dear mother and her boy, those two probably can share a little more information and should be treated for their honesty. I appreciate it. Let them have everything they wish for.”

He’s a bloody, sweaty, shaken mess and when the pressure on his hand is finally released, when the circulation is now allowed to return to his hand –

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, how now Seifer _really_ feels that pain. That throbbing, agonizingly dull wave of pain that travels and doesn’t seem to want to cease even when Tummelt lifts his boot and his soldiers are dragging the ex-Glaive to his feet.

The soldiers who had him by either side of his arms roughly drag Seifer back to his feet. He feels cold. Cold and numb. Unable to move, unable to speak – unable to register anything. In fact, the only thing Seifer is sure of is that he’s going to be very sick.

He feels the tight shackles binding his hands behind his back and Seifer’s resolution, that determination and defiance begin to crack. Only a little. For a brief moment, eyes fall downcast to the ground, and Seifer turns his head away from the General as he’s hauled away, disgraced. There’s a lot of blood lost, a lot of trauma and shock to the body and now he’s working that circulation – feet move unstable and directionless, but the guards keep him moving even when he begins to veer off from side to side.

Despite what had transpired, before Seifer is so unceremoniously forced into the drop ship, Seifer takes a moment to turn and look to this General in defiance. His head rises, determined to look undefeated in front the innocent people he had been responsible for delivering to Meldacio safely.

He can not– no, he will not let them win. It wasn’t in Seifer Almasy to cower.

And he most certainly would not bow.

Loqi orders Seifer to be taken into one of the airships. Safely chained down there, all on his own. His blue eyes follow the man until he can’t be seen anymore and it nearly looks like he enjoys the defiance in Seifer’s green eyes.

It takes him a few hours to take care of the civilians. They are all sent to a nearby camp. Heavily guarded. Loqi doesn’t want a single one to slip through the cracks and vanish. Some of them certainly knew more than they admitted and a few could probably plan to try and help their supposed leader.

Only two remained at the gates: the woman and her son. The general kept his promise and treated her well. Water, food, replacement of clothes and potions, everything they could wish for – as long as she allowed him to sit with her and talk about Seifer Almasy.

Oh and she knew so much…

It was almost too good to be true, a silent smile staying on the blonde’s face as he came back to pay Almasy a visit after the sun had gone down. The light of the giant headlights gave Seifer a ghostly appearance. How he knelt there, his arms twisted behind his back, chained to a steel joist, along with his feet and even his head was retained. Unable to move much and his face still bloody.

Loqi set down a few things beside Seifer, before he knelt down in front of him, looking him directly in the face.

“Good evening, my captive…. Or should I call you by your proper title? Your Highness? Would you like that? Though you have left everything behind…”

A short chuckle left his throat as Loqi prepared a cloth, soaking it in water from one of the field flasks. He raised the clothe to dip away the dried dark blood from Seifer’s face. It was eerily gentle, a contrast to the way he had handled the man so far.

“You know, I always thought you were dead. I mean, from all that I have heard the Almasy were exiled a long time ago… is that right? And then you were all said to have died in Tenebrae. But here you are. Seifer Almasy – the long lost former Prince of Niflheim. Everything fits. Your name, your scar, the descriptions and rumors. You have caused quite the turmoil when you were sighted among the Kingsglaive.”

Loqi changed the cloth, this time one soaked with alcohol was pressed to the cut on Seifer’s face.

There is a persistent ringing in Seifer’s ears that just won’t quit. A fresh head wound had brought the ringing hours ago – delivered by the butt of a gun connecting to the side of his head, dismissed as a ‘miscommunication’ within the ranks even though their General specifically instructed that Seifer was not to become harmed during his imprisonment.

Seifer did all he could to stay conscious. Overheated and dehydrated, injured, suffering blood loss, experiencing physical trauma, placed in a stress position on the ground, tied up – shackled – restrained –

Gods, Seifer was so exhausted. His energy depleted, his mind was shot, too worn out just trying to focus on anything but the pain that seems to be radiating all over his body. From his head to his fingertips to the knees he had been forced to kneel down on for the last few hours, but Seifer would endure it. For now.

He had a lot of time to think of the events that had taken place, retracing every step to see where he had gone wrong. What to do right the next time – and this was saying there would even be a next time. From all accounts, it was looking like this was the end of the line for the last surviving Almasy…

But a survivor was what Seifer was. He survived the uprising and the journey to Tenebrae. He survived his upbringing in Insomnia, his time in the Glaives made him a far stronger, more formidable human being than one would imagine.

The fact Seifer would survive this only bolstered him all the more when here waltzed this General who held him captive. Just seeing that smug face seemed to force Seifer to straighten his posture – well, what straightening he could manage. His resolve strengthened, eyes remained forward and focused – at least until that first touch of cold brushed across his skin.

There’s a flinch, his brow knitting together. Seifer tries to turn his head but he can’t. But that relief was so atrociously short-lived, the alcohol bringing a sting that causes his eyes to water and his jaw to clench shut tight.

As he had so adamantly refused before, Seifer doesn’t speak. Instead, he listens, eyes slowly gravitating over to the General with the wet cloth in his hand. Eyes narrow at the mention of his scar. Seifer had received that when he was living with the Amicitia’s. Had the Empire been keeping tabs on him? Seifer’s eyes flicker away, just long enough for the General to bring his attention right back with that excruciating bite of alcohol as soon as it made contact with his fresh cut.

An extended hiss of breath draws in as Seifer jerks and fights his restraints. “F-for _helvede_ –!!” That was all it took. All those hours of building up his endurance and willpower vanished in a matter of seconds as he violently thrashed until the rag was lifted and still it burned. He felt it everywhere, that ringing in his ears only serving to grow louder as he broke his silence– if he was going to die anyway, fine –

“FUCK _DIG_ – Dig _tæve_ ! Dig _røvhul_ , dig _svin_ –” Out came his voice, a string of insults as his arms and wrists twisted the shackles. He wanted to fight. He wanted to tear this Niff bastard apart one limb at a time.

Loqi kept his short distance with the thrashing maniac, while watching him. Is expression was amused, looking at Seifer, listening to his insults. They did not mean a thing to him. But Loqi slapped the man for them nonetheless.

Because he could. Because he needed to break this man. Just a little bit. Enough for him to give up his defiance and hope. Not further. In the end Loqi needed the former prince of Niflheim, not some broken tortured madman. The Emperor wouldn’t be too delighted over this.

“Ah, ah, ah… don’t have such a vile mouth. It doesn’t suit a prince, Almasy.”

Loqi gave him a playfully scolding look. Then he laid the cloth to the side. The wound was clean enough. If it got infected now, the hunter had only to blame himself.

You do not even talk… what I think is quite the pity. That woman was very helpful in the end. She said you were one of the greater hunters. One of Dave Auburnbrie’s favorites so to speak. You seem to have a good heart but are rather withdrawn – at least that was her impression.”

The blonde tilted his head slightly, as if he considered talking further.

“You know what is going to happen if you keep silent, don’t you? You aren’t a fool – not like that farmer’s boy you tried to be. You know if I bring you to Niflheim, the Emperor will want to see you. He will take a look at you and then he will really hurt you. Maybe show you what is left of your once-home. I don’t know. But I am pretty sure he will make your beheading a public one. Like a festive.”

The young General took the bottle with water and held it to Seifer’s lips so he could drink.

“The question now is whether I would not opt to be more merciful. As much as I like a good festive, I am not that much a fan of executions… it always is a mess. And I know you can help me to gain access to teh depths of the hunters. We need to stop them and get them under control. They post a threat. Rebels could grow from there – and now drink.”

Seifer’s eyes were downcast; his rage brought to heel with the sudden slap across his face. Every time he’s struck, Seifer makes a mental note of it. Catalogs it. Remembers it–

_A gash across his face._

_A lifted fingernail._

_A head injury caused by the butt of a rifle._

_An open palmed slap._

Tied up and restrained – he would remember. He would retain _all_ of this.

General Tummelt mentions the woman from before. What was her name? Phoebe, Seifer recalls. She hardly knew Seifer. He listens carefully – was she, like Jacobi, also dead? Tummelt spoke in past tense here –he worries for her fate but doesn’t ask. Doesn’t speak a word.

His gaze lifts at the mention of Dave, however, a sobering concern that he knew the Head Hunter’s full name. Eyes track that bottle containing the instant relief for a parched throat. Was that for him? How kind. It might _almost_ forgive being struck.  

Seifer listens, his lips parting as waits for his chance to drink. The bottle is tilted back and immediately water fills his mouth until it spills down the corners of his lips. One swallow. Then another and he chokes – a quick gasp and he’s at it again and oh, that sweet relief. He feels his batteries recharging, that vigor within him returning… Slowly…

And then Loqi removes the bottle from his lips. Leaving Seifer gasping but with a clearer breath. As he’s focused on putting the lid back on the bottle, Seifer begins to pick apart every one particular detail in Loqi’s threat–

“ _If_ , General.” Finally deciding to speak, Seifer begins before clearing his throat with a wet cough, “You said… _‘if I bring you to Niflheim’_ – which you and I _both_ know that you won’t.” He blinks, taking in a breath, “A good General would never risk leaving his men in an ongoing occupation at the expense of _one_ execution. You said it yourself – Niflheim thought I was dead. All that fuel to transport me home when you could order one of your men to come in and shoot me right now and you would still be commemorated for it all the same _, tsk tsk_.” He draws in a small breath, a weak smile growing crooked. Gods, he’s in a lot of pain… And he twists until he can sit with less strain on his knees. An impossible feat but he still tries.

“No doubt the reward is sweet either way.“ He’s redirecting their conversation. There will be no talk about Meldacio or the rest of the Hunters.

 

A breathless laugh came from his throat and nose, as Seifer said this. Who would have thought? That bastard of a traitor was smarter than Loqi had expected. And it was so exciting to see this. It was thrilling.

Loqi grinned, nodding.

“I have to apologize – I thought you were a little dumber. Smart, yes, but not that smart. You understand how this works. Maybe I should have valued you past life more. You learned…things.”

He pulled out a knife from his belt, the blade reflecting the lights from the outside for a moment, flashing in the dark of the airship. Loqi held it up, tipped it gently against Seifer’s cheek and his throat.

“You are right. I could kill you right here and now and I would still get all the credit for finishing off a potential usurper. I mean, surely your royal blood calls for you to reclaim your throne, doesn’t it? I imagine it all rather fairy-tale-like. The lost Prince returns to his nation, trying to free it from all evil, after he had nearly fallen captive. A true hero.”

His glance fell from Almasy once more, as did the blade. Loqi grabbed an apple he had also brought and used the knife to cut small slices out of it, instead of cutting those out of Seifer.

“Alright, in that case I will have to become more direct. You force me to be like that, keep that in mind. I could always be nice.”

He took one of the slices and held it to Seifer’s lips, knowing full well how humiliating that was. Fully intended. But if Seifer wanted to have some nutrients he better gulped down his dignity for the moment.

“I want to shatter the hunters. They have no place in a region ruled by the Empire. They are dangerous. Evidence number one sits right in front of me. To just… have hidden you, the former royalty of Niflheim among their ranks… that is enough to have all of them executed. They could all be considered traitors. But let’s not be inhumane, shall we? I am sure you have a better idea how to make them obedient and at least somewhat loyal to us… then they can also continue with their small little hunts for some monsters to satisfy their own narcissistic need to be seen as heroes.”

Seifer’s sights focus on the at the wedge of apple, knowing full well that Loqi could’ve been using that knife to carve little pieces out of Seifer’s flesh. Such a gracious host, offering up sustenance instead…

It was hard to accept this – that the General had all the control, that he was in charge and Seifer was completely powerless to do anything about it. Humiliating as it was, Seifer takes the wedge of apple into his mouth and chews. There’s no telling when he would get another chance to eat. Eyes watch the General as he slowly eats as he listens–

And laughs. As much of a laugh as he could muster, at least. The notion of destroying the Hunters was… amusing.  

“Your attention to these Hunters is horribly misplaced, General Tummelt.” He’s not even sorry for saying it. “They’re not a problem for you or the Empire – do you know what is?” Seifer tries so hard to tilt his head to better see his captor. “If you dismantle a group of innocent men and women who are just trying to take care of all the pests and varmints in your occupied farmlands, what do you think’s gonna happen, hm? The population of these monsters will overrun all that you’ve fought so hard to take.”

Ah. And one other thing…

“If we’re going to be honest with one another, sir, if there’s anyone alive who knows of my origins in Lucis, it’s you. The Council protected my identity and with them now dead…” Seifer can only shrug. “It should go without saying that I don’t exactly brag about where I come from – so is that the message you want to convey to these people within Imperial-occupied lands? That our Empire slaughters innocent people merely trying to make it home safe?”

There was a hint of surprise on the general’s face as Seifer laughed. 

Though with the words he spoke, his surprise melted into amusement. Only in a slight tone this time. Because he knew, Almasy was also speaking the truth – he just forgot part of it. 

Nevertheless, Loqi left him to talk, listening idly, as he looked into the reflection of the knife. 

He waited this one out. Not answering the other one directly. Why should he? Loqi could keep his mouth shut just as good as Seifer could. And he saw no point in arguing with him over certain things. In the end, he was his captive. A way to help demolish Meldacio’s independence. 

“You think too small, your Highness.”

He had the same tone to his voice, mimicking the hunter calling him by his rank.

“It isn’t only the hunters and Meldacio I am interested now. Of course, they were my primary goal. Still are, but you changed the game quite a bit.

Loqi lodged the knife into the apple, impaling the fruit. Then he simply pressed it to Seifer’s mouth, his free hand forcing him to open his mouth and biting into the apple. 

The knife still in there, it would have only needed a little push to cut through the apple and slit open the corners of Seifer’s mouth and his cheeks.

And for a moment Loqi seemed to contemplate it. Making a whole mess of scars out of this pretty face. 

But then he simply janked the knife back, cleaning it on Seifer’s attire, before he stood up. 

“You will give me information I need to overthrow Meldacio… and more. You are so much more than just a fool of a hunter. You are the lost one, the one that slipped through the cracks. You grew up among the highest of Lucis. You were a Glaive to the King.”

Loqi’s tongue clicked, as he smiled. 

“You could add to the weight that tips the scale in favor of Niflheim. Your old home. Isn’t that awesome? And I will get everything out of you that I want. Just you see.”

The Brigadier General walked backwards, looking at Seifer for another few moments, before he turned around waving the knife as if it was a goodbye.

He would leave his captive for a bit of time. Ordering that he would be taken care of. Ordering for him to be transported into one of the bases. Until other events occurred. Until someone new entered the picture. A certain officer of the Lucian City Guard. 

Petra Fortis.

Oh and what delight it would be to make them aware of each other’s presence. 

If words could not make him talk and if threats could not break him, it was time to get more drastic measurements. Loqi walked along the dark corridors, ordering his men to probe these two hunters.

“Get him to the room next to Fortis’.  And get the whip . Let’s see what hunters really are made of.”


	3. Chapter 3

There was a hint of surprise on the general’s face as Seifer laughed. 

Though with the words he spoke, his surprise melted into amusement. Only in a slight tone this time. Because he knew, Almasy was also speaking the truth – he just forgot part of it. 

Nevertheless, Loqi left him to talk, listening idly, as he looked into the reflection of the knife. 

He waited this one out. Not answering the other one directly. Why should he? Loqi could keep his mouth shut just as good as Seifer could. And he saw no point in arguing with him over certain things. In the end, he was his captive. A way to help demolish Meldacio’s independence. 

“You think too small, your Highness.”

He had the same tone to his voice, mimicking the hunter calling him by his rank.

“It isn’t only the hunters and Meldacio I am interested now. Of course, they were my primary goal. Still are, but you changed the game quite a bit.

Loqi lodged the knife into the apple, impaling the fruit. Then he simply pressed it to Seifer’s mouth, his free hand forcing him to open his mouth and biting into the apple. 

The knife still in there, it would have only needed a little push to cut through the apple and slit open the corners of Seifer’s mouth and his cheeks.

And for a moment Loqi seemed to contemplate it. Making a whole mess of scars out of this pretty face. 

But then he simply janked the knife back, cleaning it on Seifer’s attire, before he stood up. 

“You will give me information I need to overthrow Meldacio… and more. You are so much more than just a fool of a hunter. You are the lost one, the one that slipped through the cracks. You grew up among the highest of Lucis. You were a Glaive to the King.”

Loqi’s tongue clicked, as he smiled. 

“You could add to the weight that tips the scale in favor of Niflheim. Your old home. Isn’t that awesome? And I will get everything out of you that I want. Just you see.”

The Brigadier General walked backwards, looking at Seifer for another few moments, before he turned around waving the knife as if it was a goodbye.

He would leave his captive for a bit of time. Ordering that he would be taken care of. Ordering for him to be transported into one of the bases. Until other events occurred. Until someone new entered the picture. A certain officer of the Lucian City Guard. 

Petra Fortis.

Oh and what delight it would be to make them aware of each other’s presence. 

If words could not make him talk and if threats could not break him, it was time to get more drastic measurements. Loqi walked along the dark corridors, ordering his men to probe these two hunters.

“Get him to the room next to Fortis’. _And get the whip_. Let’s see what hunters really are made of.”  

There was very little to explore in an Imperial cell. A single bed– well, a thin foam mattress with no pillow located on a slab connecting to the back wall. Very bare. Minimum. There’s a toilet, a door. Four walls. The light fixture too high to reach or to climb to. He’s tried already. Seifer felt closed in, cold. 

They had stripped him of his gear, boots, his jacket. His weapons and dog tags – gone. The last he saw of them, the General had coiled the chain tight in his fist, letting Seifer’s lifeline dangle as he walked away.

The moment that door closed and latched, Seifer began seeking for any possible chance to fashion a weapon, maybe even look for a sign that someone had been here before. Hands crept across the walls of this cell, fingers touching the grooves within the painted over walls. This used to be a Lucian base. It had been stripped of any markings. He only knows this because of how far they had made it to the blockade. They were either near Crestholm or maybe even the base off Ostium Gorge… So eerily close to Insomnia…

Something called a meal was unceremoniously served through a latched opening beneath the door. A shapeless, colorless loaf that Seifer refused to eat. He wished he had an apple.

The lights never turned off. Not in this cell. Not in the cells across the hall either, from what little light he can see under the crack of the door.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in there. Seifer doesn’t know that it’s been two days before the guards came, shackled and were dragging him off down a narrow corridor. The ex-Glaive fought the restraints, attacked the men holding him as long as he could until he caught sight of the General.

Ah, Tummelt. It had been a few days. He looked a bit tan as he stepped out of one of the interrogation rooms. There it is, that sinister smile–

_ “Let’s see how much of friends you actually are. How strong the comradeship among hunters is.” _

Seifer breaks his fixed stare on Loqi just long enough as they passed the room – just long enough to see–

_ Fortis _ .

Fortis and that  _ piercing _ stare. Fortis who was  _ there _ with  _ Seifer _ .

Why the  _ fuck _ was Fortis there?!

Seifer planted his feet trying to stop himself from being pulled further. “Wait…” No, he needed to know why the fuck Fortis was there! “No, NO – hold on –!” He felt the guard behind him lift the chain that shackled his ankles and Seifer fell forward – caught by the guards as he’s carried into the next room.

One of the guards pushed the metal table and chairs against the wall as the others lay Seifer flat on his stomach. His feet and arms were quickly restrained, the chains fastened to steel loops bolted into the floor.

The sound of a whip unfurled, and Seifer fixed his gaze ahead. Gods. This was real. This was happening. Seifer’s breaths grew shallow, arms twisting what give the chains granted him to move. Not much. Not much at all… This sickening sense of dread looming over him as he listened to Tummelt in the next room. Say nothing, Fortis. Say NOTHING, he pleads to himself. A mantra. A prayer. Any moment now he would feel the brutal slashing to his back, and Seifer would not fear it. He won’t. He won’t. He won’t–

The first of many came, and Seifer was already prepared for it; he caught the shadows on the wall, watching the guard behind him bring the whip down to crack across Seifer’s bare back. Say nothing. Teeth grit as he let out a strained breath, white hot pain radiating out and blooming across his back.

_Say_ _nothing_.

Another lash was brought down and still, Seifer remained silent. Foolish General. If he wanted Seifer to scream he shouldn’t have let it be known that it was Fortis in the room next to him. Seeing the ex-Guard, his rival, his enemy there in the same position that he was in…

Well, Seifer couldn’t let himself show weakness now. Another lash is delivered, and Seifer’s jaw opens wide, his body contorts and twists against his restraints – but not a scream, not cries are uttered. No, the best the soldier behind him could draw out of Seifer was a sudden groan, a grunt. A growl.

Their faces. All of them with every crack they flash in his mind.  _ Pelna. Crowe. Libertus. Luche. Nyx….  _ He remembers the fallen _. Tredd. Axis. Sonitus. Drautos. Clarus. Regis… _ He remembers _ Dave. Kim. Ezma. Sarah. Kaleb. Selena…  _ Gods, he prays none of them are here too.

They change guards. Seifer knows this because it only takes one lash and he finally cries out. They’ve broken the skin. Shaky hands grip those chains and hold on for dear life as another comes down, harder.  

It’s a whimper, his bottom lip trembling, threatening to break his vow of silence as he feels the blood trickling down hot skin, feels it pooling and sticking to his stomach and he sees Fortis’ face in his mind. He has to hold it together. It would all be over soon. 

Seifer would  _ not _ cry out like that again— hoping,  _ praying _ they don’t salt the wounds after. 

_ Say nothing. _

Such a sweet prayer. 

And such a contrast to the one Loqi repeated in his mind as the whip began to hit Seifer‘s back.

_ Cry. Come on. _

Another lash.

_ Come on _ . Do it.

Again the whip came down. 

His body reacted, writhing, tensing, muscles spasm under the pain inflicted. But he stayed silent.writhing, tensing, muscles spasm under the pain inflicted. But he stayed silent.

Again. Again. Again.

_ Come on, prince. _

Loqi was calm on the outside, just his grin a traitor to his emotions in this. It was a grim expression, his attention split between the two cells. Always waiting for Seifer to break, for Petra to react. 

But the lost prince was though. Hard, determined not to let himself slip, no matter what. Well. This would change. 

Loqi looked to the side, only a small movement. The soldier beside him, a man nearly being a giant, easily topping Loqi in height by at least a head. He was silent, his face hidden beneath a hood, but not even his attire could hide away all the muscle beneath. The young general gave a small nod towards Seifer and the man followed his gesture. Ordering the soldier with the whip to stay back, taking the matter sin his own hands. sin his own hands. 

_ Come on. _

And truly. 

Finally he did it. Seifer Almasy cried out in pain. 

The Brigadier General’s eyes sparked at this, his attention perched. Even though only whimpers followed now. It didn’t matter. The reaction from Fortis was what he had aimed for as a second goal in this. And he got this, too. Breaking one, making the other wild. 

Easy.

The attention Fortis demanded then was just a quick nuisance, as Loqi had to leave the corridor into his cell. But his words had fueled another sinister intention in Loqi’s mind. He would show this man how dirty he could get his hands.

Returning to Seifer with Petra’s hunting knife in hand, the grin had slightly vanished. Dimmed down. A more stern, serious expression carving his features. One raise of his hand was enough to let the whipping stop. Loqi did not mind to get into Seifer’s view. He stepped around him. His voice silent.

“Your comrade is rather stubborn. You know, I got the impression, he doesn’t mind you getting tortured. What a shame… I had expected the bond between you hunters to be stronger. Closer. But no, as soon as you get in such a dark situation, there is nothing.”

He stopped as he stood beside Seifer, tapping the knife against his palm, as he looked down on the bloody, bare back. The red had formed a puddle beneath the man, sticking to his sides and abdomen. His skin was slashed open by several whiplashes, teared wounds that would leave ugly scars if not tended to with magic. 

Then he knelt down, one hand placed on Seifer’s nape, the knife placed on his back. 

And he began to cut. Cut the flesh in short motions, cut across Seifer’s back, using the spots that had yet remained uninjured. He wrote on him. Two words. Written in his pain and angry dark red.

Loqi was nearly emotionless while doing that. No hint of happiness over this, no hint of disgust. He just did it. A job. Nothing more. The proof Petra had wanted from him. 

To get his own hands dirty. 

As soon as he had finished these two words, Loqi stood up, quickly making his way out of the cell again. Taking an offered cloth as he gave his commands to bring Seifer over to Fortis’ cell, to wipe away the blood from his hands. Wipe away that sinking feeling. There was no joy in this. But defiance in Loqi’s eyes, as he watched the guards jerking Seifer up and dragging him over to Petra’s room. 

There, he would be restrained again. Spread on the floor, as tortured and injured as he was. No way to move once more. Guarded by his men. 

And Fortis would be able to have a good look on the two words Loqi had cut into Seifer’s back for him.

_ ‘Fortis’ Mercy’ _

A gash crossing his face.

_ Crack _ .

A damaged nail.

_ Crack _ .

The head injury caused by the butt of a rifle.

_ Crack _ .

An open palmed slap.

_ Crack _ — – -

Eighty-six lashes.  

Was there anything left of Seifer when they were ordered to cease? Somehow he had managed to keep his consciousness, eyes focusing on the blood splatter on the floor, watching the way his hands were white as they gripped onto the chains, his wrists raw from the cuffs that kept him bound.

When Loqi speaks, Seifer keeps still. He doesn’t respond. He hardly utters a sound as his breaths remained short and labored. Eyes blink slowly to clear his vision. He didn’t realize that they were wet with tears.

Gods he wished that he had kept them shut. He can’t feel what Loqi is cutting into his back, he only feels the pressure, feels the tickle of blood when it travels down his shoulder.

The letter T. Seifer feels it then, his body jerks trying to squirm out of the hold on his neck. “St–NNGH!!” He almost pleads, but his jaw locks up, he presses his cheek into the concrete.

Seifer could stop it, this torture. Whenever he wanted. He had something to give. It would be so easy to just give it up. Give up those names he had been mentally screaming in the back of his mind–

_ Pelna. Crowe. Libertus. Luche. Nyx. Dave. Kim. Ezma. Sarah. Kaleb. Selena– _

He could give them all up, but he doesn’t. Even as a choked sob lets out his pain, his body twisting, his voice betraying him in those small whimpers and moans – he’s loyal. He’s good. He’s a better man than Loqi or Fortis would ever believe… 

….Wasn’t he?

Seifer has no strength in him to fight or to argue with Loqi, even when they lift him from the floor. His body is dead weight, head lulling as he feels them drag him off, a trail of blood left in his path.

No. Loqi will not leave just yet. Not until Seifer has said his peace – He doesn’t bother looking to Fortis. He doesn’t bother looking to the guards who have begun to move away. His cheek presses to the cold concrete,  feeling some relief for the burn in his skin.  _ Some.  _

It hurts. Everything hurts. Everything is pain. He’s beginning to really feel it now – causing those chains keeping him restrained to the floor to tighten once more but his grip isn’t like it was. Not like before. When they leave him there’s nothing left to do but to remain still. Every motion causes those fresh wounds to reopen.

But it’s also shame that keeps him still. He feels guilt and now he is at the mercy of Petra Fortis. 

Gods, if there’s anything sharp in the med kit they brought and dropped down by his head he would beg for Fortis to open his throat and let it be done. 

Instead – he says nothing.

 


	4. Chapter 4

At the end of this the proud and persistent Seifer Almasy was a bloody, sobbing mess. Eyes bloodshot from tears streaming down a pained face. No movement at all – expect for the tensing and that small sudden motion of grabbing Petra’s hand. 

“Get him out here, back to his cell.”

The order was short, brief and direct. No mercy for the man.

Loqi watched him being hoisted up and then dragged along. He observed his back in the passing. Red, raw flesh shining beneath the cold neon lights, vaguely treated by Fortis but not enough.

He was weakened for sure. Maybe this experience would give him a taste of what the general was capable of.

This evening, when Loqi had finished the tasks of the day, he came back to Seifer’s cell. Alone. 

There was no need for extra guards. Almasy was weak and heavily injured. And still restrained. And Loqi was simply sure he had nothing to fear from this man at the time.

He opened the door with a sudden thud. Light flooded into the cell, since they had turned the light off after the whipping. For the first time. Give him at least some rest – until the young general knelt down in front of him.

“Wake up from your dreams, sweet Prince…”, these words were nearly like a small sing-sang, as Loqi gently slapped Seifer’s face. As the exhausted and weary green eyes opened, Loqi greeted Seifer with a grin, his fingers now digging into his chin, forcing him to look at him.

“Shh… there you are. No worries now… as if  _ I _ would hurt you.”

A soft chuckle echoing in the cold cell, as Loqi looked over Seifer’s shoulder, at his back. An ugly dark red mess. 

“My… we should take a closer look.”

He stood up, loosening some of Seifer’s restraints, pressing him down on the ground. Almasy would be able to move – but he was still chained. And Loqi doubted the lost prince would chase him through the cell. 

And as Seifer laid there, Loqi shifted to sit beside him, his loose posture a sole mockery in how little of a threat he saw in the hunter.

“Eighty-six lashes. I am sure, you counted it too… and you deserve respect for only crying out once and else just whimpering. At least I am impressed.”

The mockery continued, added up with these words and Loqi starting to actually tend to Seifer’s wounds. Properly. He would take care of his back – the basics only of course. 

He used disinfectant again, a stronger version of the one they had given Fortis. And he was  _ so very gentle  _ about it. His fingers cold and calm, softly stroking over broken and teared skin, applying water and liquids to help the healing. Minding every little painful flinch. And he would give him pain-medication. And Loqi did it in a manner he had known from the very Oracle herself. A harsh  _ contrast _ to the torture. Just to play with his mind… 

“It is clear as day and was the proof: you aren’t like a weak Lucian. You truly are Niflheim’s blood,  _ Your Highness _ .”

_ Nyx. _

Seifer had no control over what he sought after for comfort when those lights shut off and he was left to be alone with his suffering.

As much of a heartsick anguish, it was to see his face in the dark, that slowly shifted to a comfort. It needed to be. Seifer needed something good. Something familiar. Something he could always count on.

It’s a memory his mind conjures. There, within that windowless cell, he imagined the room was Nyx’s quarters. He imagined the feeling of his cheek on the pillow. He felt the sheets tangled and pushed down to the foot of the bed. It was always too hot to sleep with them on. And when he closed his eyes he–

Gods. He was there. Right there with him. When Seifer closed his eyes, he could clearly see the moonlight and how it danced on Nyx’s features. He’s so beautiful. Even with the tattoos and the scars. Seifer just finds him to be so… perfect. All of it just bathed in this calming and peaceful blue—

_ C R A C K — – - !! _

But that comfort would be ripped away the moment those lights were switched on, and Seifer is made to face the sad, cold, hard reality that it was all a lie.

Tummelt.

Eyes are weak, taking too long to focus and when they do his body grows rigid, waves of pain radiating from his open and exposed back. His body is sluggish,  a sad mockery of the strength he once had been when he tugged on the chains keeping him on the floor. They wouldn’t even grant him the dignity of laying on a bed.

Count, he certainly did. At least when he lost track, he relied on the guards asking the questions. ‘How many was it,’ one said, 'thirty-four.’ Then it was 'sixty-two’ – that was when their arm was growing tired.

Despite the loosened chains, as much as Seifer wanted to immediately leap up from his spot and wrap what give he now had around Tummelts neck and pull until his head popped off– there was no moving. Not in his weakened state. The best he was able to manage was curling his arms inward when he was free… ish. There was still resistance.

Say noth– “NNgh!!” His body flinches, pulls on those chains once more, wrists raw from the friction caused by the metal cuffs. Now they decide to treat him – and of course, it was no one else but the man who carved…

Goddamn it… what was on his back? Glaive? Coward? Niff? There was a T somewhere in there. He remembers  _ that _ . Traitor? Treasonous? He was amazed at the rather…  _ extensive  _ vocabulary he managed to conjure up in his mind – even as he feels that antiseptic burning raw flesh.

It was stronger than before, yes – quickly filling the room with the smell of it, a mixture of copper and disinfectant. Bactine. Whatever it was, he could feel there was a numbness to his body now, relief of some sorts. For whatever reason Loqi has to be so gentle, Seifer will remain still.

Still and silent. The occasional grunt of pain in response to the General’s care. But… why though? Why was he so gentle? Why was he even there?

His head is lifted, two dissolvable pills administered despite his want for them or not. Honestly, he didn’t have much fight in him to resist. He recognized the taste of them though– a quick release opioid. Military grade, no doubt.

“It is clear as day and was the proof: you aren’t like a weak Lucian. You truly are Niflheim’s blood, Your Highness.”

A few breaths–

“ Jern i vores blod danner koldt stål i vores imperium… ”

Seifer doesn’t even know if whether or not he’s speaking garbled nonsense. Already those drugs act fast, and he drags an arm to rest his forehead on.  _ Oh _ , that was  _ sweet _ relief. Something other than the cold hard floor. “…Most Lucians… they’re shaped for letting others fight their wars… but you’d know something about that, wouldn’t you, General?”

Well… this came as a little surprise to the young general.

Loqi stopped his care, looking at Seifer with one brow raised high, his lips slightly parted. He wanted to give an answer, a quick comeback, one of the kind like he always gave.

But there was nothing.

Nothing of substance at least. 

Loqi knew there were two paths he could go on from this point now.

Mock him – or take his words into consideration. Taking them seriously… his blue eyes remained on Seifer for another minute. Then, Loqi slowly shifted again and continued his work at taking care of Seifer’s back. 

And this time it wasn’t a set up gentleness. He just tended to his wounds like any soldier would do for his comrade. It did not matter anyway – the pain medication was diluting his captive’s mind. He probably wouldn’t remember. 

“You surprise me, I have to admit that. There seems to be more of us within you, than I expected. And you know how Lucians are… they are vile, cruel, absorbed by themselves. They deem themselves so high above anyone else. Above their own people.”

He applied some bandages, pressing gauze against the wounds, sticking the sides to his unharmed skin, to lower the risk of an infection.

“Just take their King. Laughable. He left behind the royalty of Tenebrae… I don’t know about your time, but he would probably not have done anything either. Fact is, he left a young prince and princess he deemed ‘friends’ as long as they could help his brat of a son – but as Tenebrae fell, he fled. He fled and didn’t raise a finger within 12 years to help those children, leaving them to rot. Even I say Princess Lunafreya and her brother deserved better than this… and I saw what happened to them.”

The work was finished, Seifer’s wounds mended, at least in the most basic way. 

The Brigadier General leaned back, his fingernails digging into the bandage and Seifer’s back for a moment. Inflicting a slight stinging pain.

“And your hunter-friends are the same… haven’t you noticed? No one asked for you till now. No one. I hope you never thought one of them loved or cared about you. The opposite has been proven. And this Fortis guy? He did not care for your pain, not really. He kept his mouth shut over some little information and allowed you to get tortured for it.

The pride of your hunters is a gruesome thing… there is no reason to resent the Empire. I will say it again: we would leave your little group to do as they please, just beneath our command. But no. They rather want their own people to suffer so they can remain independent for now.

Do they know what you are? What blood runs through your veins? If they do, you know the reason why no one is coming for you… why they will leave you here to rot. Fighting their war, while they hide. Like true Lucians.”

_ ‘Like true Lucians.’ _

So then was this how true sons and daughters of Niflheim really operated? As easy as it was to blame the Lucians for Tenebrae – for all of it –

Even as the General’s words cut deep, Seifer still knew better, pressing his cheek into a crooked forearm as he stared at the sliver of light beneath the door. Would it be worth the risk attempting to escape? Could his body withstand the exertion placed onto it if he tried? If Fortis was really here, the two of them could work together to get out of there but… could he even stand at this point? As Tummelt explored the inner workings of this rather unscheduled monologue, Seifer’s mind was focused elsewhere.

At least until Seifer feels the sting in his back – bringing his focus right back to where the General required it. He had to have known Seifer was tuning him out. There was nothing to say – about any of it. Sure, Seifer blamed Lucis for their poor mishandling of Tenebrae, neglecting to return with reinforcements to protect Lunafreya and Ravus from the Empires chokehold. The King didn’t even try to save them when he was there, and yet he ran all the way back to Lucis to protect his people in a magic bubble. Seifer lost his father and mother during that attack. He lost everything and was stolen away all because a Council member had the foresight to grab Seifer as they fled. He was 'a valuable and most precious asset,’ after all.

Tummelt could say all that he knew about it – but he wasn’t there. He didn’t watch Glauca cut down Queen Sylvia or the MTs gunned his parents down. He didn’t see the smoke or the fires, hear the screams – none of it. His mother and father’s bodies were still warm when they made their escape and Seifer was denied his chance to properly grieve them.

Yet and still, the General was good with his cutting words – especially when wounds hit deep at the mention of the hunters.  Ah. There was the pain. The sickening grief. Their losses and strife were still all-too present in the back of Seifer’s mind. He had laid there emotionless through the talks of Tenebrae, but the mention of the Hunters and their concern or– lack thereof, causes Seifer to visibly bristle.

And Fortis. Seifer’s mind never strayed too far away from him, remembering through the haze of trauma and shock how he too, had been chained up, held prisoner and forced to hastily dress these same wounds that had been cut fresh into Seifer’s back. Wounds he inflicted–

No. No, Seifer can’t allow himself to think like that. Fortis did as any soldier would have. He stayed silent. He said nothing. Seifer clenches that jaw tight. He repeats their names in his mind to remember: These are the people he is protecting. His silence keeps them safe.

Perhaps he should lash out. Turn around and strike Tummelt with that heavy cuff around his wrist. It made him wonder where his pride had gone – that compulsive defiance against authority had gone? It had been ingrained into his mind for so long it was second nature to resist and here, and now it lay dormant within him.

Had he truly become broken? No…

_ 'They rather want their own people to suffer so they can remain independent for now.’ _

No…

“The people should be free. They shouldn’t have to live in fear of the Empire breathin’ down the back of their necks…” Chains rattle as he slowly rises up. He needs to. Seifer’s sure he’s going to be sick if he continues to lie on the floor like he had been. “I keep tellin’ you but you ain’t listenin’ to me General. You’re torturing a pair of former soldiers over a group of men and women who hunt Sabertusks and Spiracorns…”

He grasps onto the metal slab, able to move high enough to lift his broken body up to sit. Gods, it’s a relief, even if he feels his skin radiating that heat from the wounds. Feeling it’s fever pulse. “There’s no hidden agenda here – all we’re tryin’ to do is survive.”

“In fear of the Empire?”

Loqi repeated those words with raised eyebrows – but no amusement. 

“You know it isn’t like that. The places the Empire claimed are at peace now. The people live there, leading their lives just like before – but in peace now.”

The young general retreated a little, but was still on one knee, one hand resting on his other knee as he moved a little to the side. Keeping his distance to react quickly enough and having Seifer’s whole body in his sight.

Picking up the wet gauze he had used on Seifer, Loqi continued.

“You say I don’t listen to you, but you are the one who doesn’t understand. The same goes for all the other hunters. I don’t understand why you all are so defiant with the idea to be hunters beneath the flag of the Empire. Had you obeyed the first day I came forward to you and especially Auburnbrie, none of this would have been necessary.”

He wouldn’t take away the partial freedom Seifer had now. The cuff around his wrists would stay, but the chains loosened. Loqi grabbed these, yanking the hunter forward with it, closer to him, disturbing the relief he got from changing positions after so long lying on the floor.

“Is it really freedom that you have? Now don’t just look at other Empires and Kingdoms. Think for a moment, Almasy… The hunters hunt because the lands are infested by monsters and slowly also by daemons. To have to flee when the darkness comes, every night, this isn’t freedom. You yourself: you aren’t free either. You said I am the only one knowing of your origin around here… so you aren’t free among your hunters. Would they still keep you if they knew who you were? Would the Glaives have been as nice to you? You had no freedom ever since you fled Niflheim.”

Loqi released the chains again, allowing Seifer to relax once more. 

“So don’t act as if this is an entirely new, unbearable experience. We protect the people under our rule, too. The Empire fights back daemons just as much as you. Monsters and daemons do not differ between Lucian and Imperial blood they feast on. Remember this when you next time start to get up about how you poor poor hunters just want to be free and can’t live under the control of another monarch – as if Regis had ever been interested in your well-being.”

As if to rub this in, Loqi pointed at the scar in Seifer’s face, for a second his finger flicked over the lightly healed scab.

“Even this… who did this to you? This scar robs you off freedom, too. Everyone can identify you with this – at least it is way easier like this. Helped me too.”

The yank comes and it’s no surprise that in Seifer’s altered state that his balance is more than a little unstable. He flies forward, off the slab– his only relief ripped from him as he’s brought back down to the floor on bended knee with an agonized cry of pain.

Not even the medication could block the impact from being felt. It crashes upon Seifer’s mind in waves. He sounds out his discomfort, a low growl escaping when he feels that sting radiated along his body like a pulse. Sending out shocks from his back down into his limbs – pain, pain, _ pain… _

Meanwhile, Tummelt carries on his talk of freedom and Empires and Kingdoms. And what would he know of it? What twisted misconceptions would he go on about this time? When the questions come all Seifer can utter is a sharp “Shut up–” in response. He didn’t want to hear it. Not a word.

His arms are extended, his strength too weak to pull back without Loqi taking away what motion he’s given, what freedoms he’s allowed. Gods, he wants out. That suffocating feeling returning back to him, reminding him that he’s caged– restrained– trapped. His head was swimming, drowning in the effects of the drug coursing through him and he feels that rage building up inside the longer the General runs his mouth.

Refusing to listen, Seifer shakes his head. He’s heard these words before but they came from the mouth of another – his Captain. His comrades. From Luche and Tredd and all the others. Their own talks of freedom from the broken monarchy. Their sad justification for all the wicked they brought to the Crown City and its people. Seifer was no different. He had been among them, spouting the same lines of bullshit. He was just as guilty.

Arms drop and Seifer rests balled up fists on the top of his thighs. His arms shake, muscles ache, breaths shallow and uneven. His frame trembles unsteadily while still bent on one knee but not from pain. He feels something else now. That anger and fury – the tension was beginning to grow unbearable the longer he hears Tummelt running his mouth–

And who could blame him for what he did next? If he truly had no freedom, if the prospects of being released were really so nigh impossible to escape then why bother trying to be a model prisoner? This fool of a General had grown too trusting of his captive, and when the hand draws near to flick at the wound inflicted upon Seifer he can’t take it any longer.

Seifer snatches that hand as it pulls away, channeling all his strength to exact his retaliation. To make Tummelt suffer– by rising to his feet and his head delivering a powerful and vicious blow to the General’s face, praying to the Six that he makes him bleed. Break a nose. Bust out a few teeth. Shatter an orbital socket – anything. Despite his restraints Seifer continues to lash out, feeling the cuffs cutting into his skin, feeling the tendons in his shoulders threatening to tear but he doesn’t stop. If only they would break loose. If only he could smash this little Niff bastards skull in until there’s nothing left.

One thing Loqi hated had now happened to himself: underestimation.

He had underestimated the adrenaline rushing through Seifer‘s veins, making his rage grow, nourishing that wrath and anger. 

Pulling back, trying to duck away as he is suddenly grabbed, it only helps as much. His captive still manages to land that blow. Loqi can feel the numbness floating through his face, starting from his nose, before, just a second later, the pain roams after it. 

It’s a sting and explosion of pain, making him gasp and stumble back, till his back hits the opposing wall. Seifer can’t reach there, no matter how much he fights and throws himself against his restraints. Loqi is safe there. 

The young general can feel warm blood on his face, trickling down his chin. 

The second time in just two days someone had made him bleed like this. He should get more cautious… 

Raising one hand, driving it over his face, Loqi tried to wipe away some of the blood, but there was more than enough following from his nose and a busted lip. 

Well, it didn’t matter anyway… this had just shown Loqi one thing: Seifer didn’t want to have his wounds mended. He liked suffering. 

Oh and Loqi would serve it to him.

His bleeding nose and that silent clinking coming from the four tags around his neck reminded him of the other person that had injured him like this in the short time after Fortis’ capture and now: Nyx Ulric.

That man who had reacted so openly at the display of Fortis’ and Almasy’s tags. The Brigadier General was curious about how Seifer would react to Ulric’s name. Maybe similarly emotional? Could he tear another hole into his sanity?

Loqi would use that to his advantage. He would let Seifer know he had met Nyx. But he would make this story far worse. Turning and twisting it.

“Heh… granted. This one was one me.”

He started fairly harmless, straightening his back again, while pressing the back of his hand to his nose to stop the blood.

“But I will tell you, that you weren’t the only one who did this to me recently. There was another, so sadly you would have to get more creative… that other man was also a hunter.”

Start with the truth, the reality. It was easy and glossed over all the following lies.

“Nyx Ulric, I don’t know if you know him… but he did that too. And he paid for it.”

Loqi pulled out the tags, looking through the names. Tummelt, Almasy, Fortis, Ulric. 

The last one, he held up, letting the engraved letters reflect in the light from the open door. 

“He was brave, back there in Lestallum. So brave and so dumb to attack me like that. And the price he paid was high. I mean… I couldn’t even avoid it. My men were quick to raise there guns and aim at Ulric.”

Loqi moved his other hand up to his head, his fingers forming a gun, thumb moving as if he pulled a trigger, while a dark grin grew on his face.

“… haven’t seen that much blood splatter in a while.”

The truth hurt, but lies could hurt so much worse.


	5. Chapter 5

Seifer was going to be sick just from watching the way those tags dangled and swayed right in his face. Ulric. Nyx Ulric. Son of–

“…You didn’t.”

Within the walls of that cold, concrete cell Seifer had felt many things during his stay as Tummelt’s special captive. Rage, anger, violence – these were easy things to feel, even through the pain inflicted, drowning out the sound of a hungry stomach or numbing down a searing migraine. Standing there, bruised and battered, whipped, cut open, starved and beaten  – somehow Seifer managed to keep some sliver of pride in there. That last fight to resist. Spite and fury had brought him to his feet, pushed him to fight back, to make Tummelt feel even just a shred of what he was feeling in that moment…

But that name – that name immediately ejected Seifer’s mind out of that concrete cell and right back to the last moment he saw Nyx– back in Meldacio – it was no real significant moment, but Seifer could remember the details so vividly. Plaid shirt, denim pants. Kukri strapped to his thigh. How handsome he looks with a fresh haircut. He’s reborn. He’s free. Seifer almost smiled, looking at the way Nyx’s brow quirked up when Sarah passed him a fresh cup of coffee. He was taking his sip, eyes drifting over to Seifer and for that split second – the length of a heartbeat – there was that connection. Nyx had almost looked as though he forgot that he hated Seifer. Only for a second. The length of a heartbeat. It was there and then–

And just like that, Loqi brought him right back. Seifer’s vacant expression remains but when he blinks heavy tears roll from his cheeks. “No…” He stepped back, the chains dragging on the floor. “ _ You’re _ lying.” Did he think Seifer was stupid? Ulric would never engage in combat unless he had been provoked. He wasn’t the aggressor, Seifer was.

Teeth grit as he raised an unsteady hand, pointing at the General. And so it began– that soul-sucking denial Seifer is fighting so hard to disbelieve he’s feeling. 

“ _ You’re  _ a fuckin’  **_liar_ ** …” He wouldn’t. Nyx wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would not. Would not. That _ wasn’t _ Nyx. Nyx didn’t  _ just _ ‘attack!’ He would’ve  _ had _ to be provoked– Seifer blinks again, shaking his head. He feels his breath growing short, a hard, painful lump lodged in his throat made it so goddamn  _ impossible _ to  **_b r e a t h e_ ** _. _ No. Loqi was  _ lying _ . Twisting the truth. Those tags were  **fake** . All of it.  _ All _ of this was **_fake–!!_ **

With a mournful cry, Seifer lunges for Loqi again, the force sending him to his knees. Labored breaths grow even more choked, his eyes unable to tear away from the tags in Loqi’s fist. “It’s _ not _ real… it’s not–” Seifer shakes his head, over and over and over, “Notrealnotreal **notreal** –” Playing that image of Nyx in his mind over and over and over and over. 

Rage. Anger. _Violence_. They’re so easy to feel… but there’s something else. Something Seifer has never truly felt before until then– **Fear.**

The kind that sent a cold wash down a fevered back. The kind that put a lead weight in the pit of one’s chest. The kind that twisted and turned insides into knots until Seifer feels his body soon begin to curl inward. He’s cracking,  _ breaking,  _ **_s h a t t e r i n g_ ** _ – _ \- – -

Glassy eyes finally rip away from the tags long enough to PLEAD with the General – “Please…. **PLEASE** ….you can’t do this to me –  _ tellmeyou'relyinggoddamnitthiscannotbetrue… _ .”

He had expected a reaction. What he got was a breakdown. 

He had found that weak spot. That one thing that could send Seifer down on his knees. 

That one person that held his heart. 

How perfect.

Loqi watched the lost prince of Niflheim crumble right in front of him. Teh sobbing, the tears, the yelling, the  _ pleading _ . It was  _ delicious _ .

Pulled just the right string here…

“Well, I am not lying.”

Loqi pushed himself away from the wall once more, grabbing that arm Seifer had used to point at him and with one trained movement, tricking and overcoming size and weight differences, the captive was hurled to the floor. Hard, merciless. Loqi grabbed the chains of his shackles, jerking Almasy back, fastening them once more. Seifer had lost the short delight of being granted more freedom with that attack. 

The sadness and riled up emotions of the hunter probably helped Loqi a tremendous bit in restraining him like this again. Otherwise this man would have fought back like a vicious beast. Maybe just a minute from now the shock and fear would die down and leave him in rage and wrath – a temper longing for the general’s blood.

Loqi would rather not have him in greater freedom then.

But that did not go the other way. 

Loqi swiped his hand over his face once more, slowly getting rid of most of the blood. And in that movement, the tag of Nyx he held in his hand was also tainted with the dark red. Somehow now looking as if it could have been the blood splattered over the tags as Nyx supposedly had been shot.

Loqi did not plan on releasing Seifer from this cruel lie. 

He deserved to suffer in his pain and sorrow.

Stepping back, he held the tags high once more, before he let them clutter to the floor. Right in front of the man, just out of his reach. He could only look at them. Stained, bloody, the name of his friend … or love engraved. To him that was all that was left.

“But you wouldn’t want to believe me anyway, right? Should I prove it to you? How?”

It was a chain of thoughts Loqi followed at the same time he formed the words. But then a rather dark smirk appeared on his face.

“Show you his body? I don’t really feel like dragging a dead weight to you. And you don#t deserve to be given the trust to be lead to him. How about a body part? Would a finger of him do? Though it could be any I guess… I saw he had some very special tattoos. How about I carve one of them out for you? Or… his eyes? I bet you spent hours staring into them? You can have one. Just as a thanks for nearly bashing my right eye in with your sudden burst of violence…”

 

He’s collapsed onto his stomach. The world around him has crumbled and broken. To think there would ever be a way out of this nightmare was laughable.

And then the tags clattered to the floor – even knowing it was Tummelt’s blood staining the name ‘NYX ULRIC’ – it was all too real for Seifer. He has become shattered, cracked and torn open like the wounds on his back. He can feel them bleed but he feels no pain. None that could ever compare to the soul-rending agony he felt in that moment.

Nyx Ulric was dead. and he can’t handle it.

Seifer was no stranger to death. Since childhood, he was always surrounded by it. His career was built on the countless lives he had taken fighting under the rule of the Crown. Seifer never felt much for death – never even crying over the loss of his own parents. But when he can so vividly picture the lifeless body those tags were taken from. When he can see those endless blue eyes gazing skyward into nothingness. An aura of red blooming around a body belonging to a Galahdan who gave his life to save so many innocent lives. Who sacrificed and pushed and bled for Lucians for a vain hope of his own people to know peace…

The Empire wouldn’t hesitate. Tummelt’s treatment of Seifer was all he needed to know the truth. And he believes him when Tummelt dares to threaten Seifer by mutilating his corpse. The body of the man they all once called 'hero.’ Gods, Seifer could feel the bile rising into his throat and he groans, swallowing back the rising mess before–

“Get out!” He can’t dare picture Nyx without his eyes. He can’t handle the idea of those tattoos removed from his body. Seifer bares his teeth, pressing his face into the cold floor fighting everything to stifle back those mournful sobs that betray him.

He won’t give Tummelt that pleasure – seeing Seifer sink that far into despair. He’s already given the bastard too much. Blue-green eyes lift to Tummelt and he lurches forward, a wild animal as his voice hoarsely screams– “ **I said** **GET OUT!!!** ” 

His suffering was so raw, it felt as if Seifer could fill this cell with his pain, the air heavy from it.

Loqi only watched him, how his thoughts were so apparent. It was all on the surface. Seifer turned inside out.

There was nearly nothing left of that bold cocky hunter Loqi had first met a few days earlier.

He had broken him. 

Seifer Almasy knelt there, restrained and bound, shaking and crying – and then he lashed out. Rage, wrath, fury. It all exploded from that battered body in screaming and throwing himself forward.

The young general had nothing to fear. In the end Seifer’s rage couldn’t break the chains. 

For a moment though, Loqi flinched at that voice and demand. It had become unusual that someone yelled at him that way. Those times were long past.

But then Loqi’s own emotions echoed to that. Of course he wouldn’t follow Seifer’s command. 

Instead, Loqi dashed forward, grabbing Ulric’s tags from the ground, and he hit the man with the back of his armored hand, slapping him across the face. One knee up, his boot placed on Seifer’s shoulder and forcing him back until Seifer’s whipped back met the wall behind him. 

Loqi did not let go, his foot pressing Seifer harder against the cold concrete.

“Shut up.”

He was silent, eerily calm as he held those tags up, the metal softly clinking in front of Seifer’s face for a moment. Then Loqi placed them around Seifer’s head. The tags with the name and blood on his forehead, he fastened the metal chain around the blonde dirty hair. Tight, until the chain cut into his skin.

“Here, behave yourself. You are the prince you should have been now. With a proper crown.”

Loqi took a step back, bowed down in a mocking manner, his eyes staying on Almasy the whole time.

_ “Your Highness.” _

The Tormenter. Loqi seemed to really enjoy exacting his torment onto Seifer – never missing a grand opportunity to remind him of exactly what he was. 

A Niff Prince. A forgotten Royal. Expendable. 

Hilariously, Seifer felt little connection to any of these things. Maybe once upon a time. Maybe even shortly before the fall of the Crown City. But now? 

Seifer had a hard time feeling much of anything. Even with his body thrown to the wall, his wounded back delivered a constant pressure that should have registered with blinding pain but he feels nothing. Nothing that compares to the grief in his heart. The tags that hung on his head were quickly ripped off in short order as Loqi bowed. Blood trickled down the right side of his nose, the gash between his eyes had been reopened. 

Yet Seifer cared little. Whether Loqi would snatch the tags from his possession or not, he at least had one last look at the name before the lump in his throat grew large enough for him to swallow it down. 

“What is it you want with me, General?” He lifts watery bloodshot eyes that reflected back days of exhaustion and defeat. “You think– you think I’m going to give you anything now?” The corners of his mouth somehow pull to a grimaced smile. “Fuck you.” He tosses the tags at Loqi’s feet. “Fuck your Empire. Fuck your Emperor. Fuck this whole place– May the Infernian’s Hellfire swallow us all… 

Very slowly he leans forward, drawing up a knee to rest a shackled arm as he inspected Loqi with unblinking eyes. A bit of madness lay underneath those brilliant blue-greens, a touch of that Almasy fire and utter abhorrence for the Niff standing before him. 

“I’m sure you’re far too young to remember my father but he was a bloodthirsty tyrant. I can still remember sitting on his knee as he ordered traitors to the execution block. Made sure that  _ I _ watched because someday _ I  _ would be the one sitting the throne. Honestly. It’s no wonder why Aldercapt usurped the man, he was a monster…

But… I’m going to tell you right now that you may as well go ahead and put a bullet in me too. Because the minute I get my chance? I’m going to tear that pompous, sadistic head right off your shoulders with my bare hands. I will show you  _ no mercy _ , General. I promise you– here – now–  **you** **_will_ ** **die screaming.** ”

Loqi just stared right back at Seifer. His own blue-grey eyes lost in those vibrant blue-greens of Seifer for a few moments. He was lost for these seconds, stepped outside the route he had followed, where doubts and fear lingered. 

He believed that threat in an instant. Another reason to make sure that this man never got the chance to turn it into reality. Seifer wouldn’t have one day in freedom every again. 

Despite all these thoughts, Loqi’s face remained unmoved. Eyes just gazing down at him, lips slightly pressed together and the glimmer of unease made way for his signature look of light mockery in his eyes.

He had to hold against this man. Not one bit of weakness or uncertainty would be shown to him.

“And you really think I believed you would give me anything? Come on, now, don’t paint me a fool. You have been a nuisance from the very first moment we met. Stubborn, recalcitrant, a fool through and through… we really all can be thankful your father and your whole family have been killed off and replaced by a benevolent Emperor. And to think… just imagine… just this one day and if that hadn’t happened, you now would sit upon a throne and be what you hate so much right now.”

Loqi picked up the tags he had gained from Ulric. Seifer didn’t seem to appreciate  _ gifts _ … so be it.

The young general didn’t even grant the man another glance, he just simply walked out of the cell. There was nothing to gain for him here anymore. Seifer would stay there… his only purpose now was to be leverage. 

And after he had fulfilled that… he could be lead to a scaffold.

But maybe there was this little spark of hope left. Seifer would not want to talk to him… but maybe he would like to talk to another. Another captive, just like him. And since his supposed favorite captive was seemingly dead, Loqi could only pair him up with one other guy: Fortis.

Loqi stood in the room he would put them in. It was a rectangular room, the same concrete walls and cold floors, but it contained little ‘cells’, separated by wire mesh fence. Looked like one would put wild dogs or smaller monsters in there to tame them. 

So it was fitting for his plans with these two.

Loqi hummed silently, as he looked at the little mechanic device in his hand. It was a wiretap. Just a small black button. He did not know whether the two would suspect such immediately. Maybe they would, but in that case he couldn’t help it and they would just stay silent. It was worth a shot. Maybe their wounds, the drugs, the pain and the delight of seeing each other again was enough to make their tongues loose in a fit of relief. 

Placing the wiretap beneath one of the metal bars separating two compartments, Loqi had finished his preparations. He was to go and just listen for now. 

Just a few minutes later, MTs would bring the blonde in here – blindfolded. Couldn’t spoil the surprise for him immediately, right?


End file.
